Hana
by Obsessive Imperfection
Summary: Theres no one to trust in the world. But, maybe theres an exception to that.


A/N: to those who don't know what Hana means, its means 'Flowers' (: (all the rest of the author's messages and disclaimers and all are in the end.)

**Hana.**

Every flower has its time to grow, it has to face through difficulties from mother nature, theres a time when every flower blossoms so beautifully. Warming the world with colors, a gorgeous sight to see. Every flower has its time to retire. Death. But they accept it so willingly, letting the wind carry their fragile petals, giving their lives to a laughing child. They accepted it, knowing their fate, making a tragedy such as death seem graceful.

Flowers, I find, are very admirable.

. . . . . .

Most people want to become famous, so they set their dreams on becoming a actor slash actress, or, a singer. When I was ten, I wanted to grow up to become a singer. Unfortunately, that would be absolutely impossible, because I can barely carry out a tune correctly. So, I tried acting.

You know, I'm happy I gave up on singing, because even if I could carry out a tune; I had the worst stage frights that you could ever imagine. (God, why must you be so unfair to thee?) But that didn't really matter, because I never cared for acting, I was just a very bad liar to tell you the truth. Even though its just the script, somehow it still seems like a lie, you know? Because those words aren't mine, it feels like stealing, and everyone knows how I get when I come across a problem like that.

I once wanted to try becoming a novelist, but I think thats just because I was so overwhelmed by the emotions a novel gave me. So, you see, I figured something else about me. I. Don't. Like. Sticking. To. Something. Very. Long. Really, I never had a very long attention span. If there was a distraction, like just a teeny, tiny, pretty piece of glitter on the ground, you can bet I would stop listening to the teacher and instead trying to pick it up.

Anyways, back to being a novelist, I ended up quitting after a while, three days. You can say I am very proud of my record. But, then I wondered, if there was going to ever be a good job for me? Because I wanted independence, I didn't just want to relay on my husband, who knows when he could just abandon me and fly off with some pretty girl down the street or next door?

I learned it the hard way that you couldn't trust anyone. They will end up leaving you, abandoning you, forgetting you. And its scary. I've lost my parents. I've lost my only friend, and all my so-called "friends." They're all betrayers, excluding my mother, who died because of an utter tragedy. But having her gone from my life hurted the most. Because she was actually someone I_ loved_. I promised her I would live. I wouldn't just sulk for the rest of my life, it was my mom's last wish. And I was born to fulfill all her wishes.

I also learned that I was not going to break my own vow of some kind of independence, because then I got a job.

As a model. (Soon to be super, if I could ever get over these _annoying_ costumes.)

' ' ' ' ' '

Its not really as great as it seems, at least I don't have to worry about money now. But, instead I have to worry about all those catty models, people who I can trust or dismiss as a future betrayer, not getting too close to friendly people. The way I got close to my best friend, before he stabbed me in the back. A betrayer, masked in a friendly front.

I'm sure that if I ever told anyone about how I didn't really like modeling, (I just started last week, after my manager, Ran, forced me into all those classes.) they would just think I was absolutely mad. "But what about the _money_?" sure, it pays for the nice house I live in, and the food I eat. But, of course, how much can I eat anyways? Keeping to this ridiculous diet, because they want me to be thinner to fit any corset without dying because of the lack of air. Because, if I do die, it would look bad on them.

Don't you see how caring they are?

And then there are these type of people who will go, "What about the _glamor _and_ fame_?" yeah, so, what about them? Oh wait, I get it, you're talking about how I'll have to deal with these really, _noble_, paparazzi, who are just so _kindly_ taking photos of me. Really, I must be thanking them for giving me extra practice. Fame doesn't come until you do something breathtaking, and daring. But I swear, not in a million years, will you ever see me stark naked on the catwalk stage.

' ' ' ' ' '

Today I have to model with a male star, I don't really mind. Because I've always treated boys like girls, they aren't very different, perhaps marked by their ... features, but really, we all feel the same emotions. As long as this guy doesn't become a pain, then I'm fine. If he wants to keep his distance, I'm fine. If he wants to jump of a cliff, I'd wish him good luck, and mutter how much of a lunatic he is under my breath.

I don't find myself very distinctive, perhaps its just my natural pink hair that sparked people's interest in me. But that just makes me angry. Was I really chosen because of the hair god gave me? Thats so ridiculous and desperate, I would want to kick the person who decided this on the head.

"Amu? Lets go, sweetheart. Lets not keep Mr. Yoru waiting, alright?"

Ran? Oh, right, my manager. I look up, to smile at her, and nod. Yoru... he was nice enough, really. But he was silly, and that was nice. Because then I don't have to feel so tense, with him around, its all about smiles and laughter.

I found myself really liking him.

And thats bad. No, its even worse.

I've thought him as, something like that, ... as one of my family members.

I've had every family member plucked from my reach, I didn't want to curse him with my bad luck.

And I didn't want to get hurt again. I really didn't. I would have to separate from him, hes a threat.

But...it wouldn't matter, would it really, if I just tried to pretend that he could be someone that resembled my father, even just for a day?

Of course it would.

Now, clearing my mind from him, I try to think of something else. My thoughts linger on the male model I'll be working with.

Now, _who is he_?

. . . . .

a/n: -dies- derrr. I wanted to make a story where Amus different...so thats why shes all sarcastic and tomboyish. TwT I hope thats alright...

Warnings: To be filled later.

Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. Shugo. Chara. (Of course, if I did, then Ikuto and Amu would be grandpa-)

Yoomie: WHO STOLE MY LASAGNA?

a/n: D;


End file.
